Off To The Races
by venpast
Summary: Shizuo hasn't had a good drink in years; he decides it's high time to do so - and maybe troll Izaya to hell and back while doing it. In which Shizuo pretends to be 'Kanra-chan's boyfriend' while a crossdressing Izaya is in the middle of a job. For the DRRR Kinkmeme.
1. Act I Scene i

Written for the DRRR Kinkmeme. I hope you guys like it. :D

 **Original prompt:**

Izaya is cross dressing as Kanra to get information and Shizuo unexpectedly runs into him during a business meeting. Shizuo recognizes him immediately (maybe cuz of smell?) and decides to troll Izaya by pretending to be Kanra-chan's boyfriend.

I wanna see Shizuo enjoying the hell outta it and Izaya trying everything (stealthily) to get him to go away. What happens after is up to you. :D

Bonus: if the day after the news is all over the internet and the chatroom is all excited for 'Kanra', much to Izaya's dismay.

* * *

" _Anger was washed away in the river along with any obligation._ "

― Ernest Hemingway, _A Farewell to Arms_

The wind blew hard that night, his lit cigarette flickering lightly, arms resting along the steel frame of the rather compact balcony. His eyes slid closed, the cathartic feeling of relief washing over him in open waves that soaked him from head to toe. It was the greatest feeling, being completely and absolutely unchained to bitter realities, especially those of his irascible nature - the realities of those violent days and temperamental tendencies that he could never outrun, both metaphorically and mentally. He brought the cigarette to his lips expertly, dragging a sour inhale of tobacco, reveling in the glory of nicotine. A fountain of smoke braided out of his nose, a tinted sigh escaping him.

He hadn't felt like this in quite a while; he hadn't had the time before, he supposed, to be able to sit around and do nothing for an entire evening. His job was taxing for the most part, even if it was not taken seriously by _people_ he would rather not think of in his happy stupor. _I should really get to doing this more often_ , he thought idly, bending down to crush the fag between two of the lined, restricting steel poles. He breathed heavily, running a hand through his knotted hair, courtesy of the afternoon nap he'd taken. A nap that had also left him with more energy than he knew what to do with. It was a relaxed sort of energy, yes; but energy was energy, and Shizuo knew he would be staying up tonight.

He padded back into the apartment, a pleasant warmth engulfing his body as his bare feet hit the warm moquette floors, blue tracksuit dragging behind his steps. It was definitely a nice change from the frosty night-air, albeit not as refreshing. He made it a habit not to smoke within the apartment itself, even if he was in bed and the large windowpane was very close. He didn't feel like stinking up the place, even though he kind of liked the smell of burning tobacco.

After closing the sliding glass, he turned his attention to his phone, which was blinking rather dejectedly on the coffee table. He raised an eyebrow. It was unlikely that anyone left him a missed call or a message _now_ of all times. It wasn't horribly late, but it was pretty late. Ten, for Shizuo, was late. He was usually dead by eight-thirty on a good day, milk drunk and all.

He hummed curiously, picking up the device, watching the screen light up excitedly. _Kadota?_ Shizuo was confused at this point. There was both a call and a few text messages left by the man. Kadota was Shizuo's friend, for the most part - or so the blond considered him such, anyway. They hadn't spoken much after high-school, but then again, none of them have; not Shinra or Kadota, or even Shizuo and Izaya - save the more recent chases. Shizuo only ever visited Shinra when he was cut or shot or _something_ , and really only saw Kadota on the streets fortuitously. They did speak every now and then, but never as often as before. With an exhale, Shizuo opened the message.

' _u up for a drink_ ' was all it said. The blond raised an eyebrow; it was possible that both the otaku were driving the man insane, so maybe he needed an outlet. Shizuo just couldn't understand why _he of all people_ was Kadota's choice of company. He flipped to the next message, expression still bewildered.

' _none of them can handle liquor for shit and togusas at the mechanic or smth dunno_ '

Shizuo smirked, well that answers that. He quickly dialed the man's number, bringing the mobile phone up to his ear. The texts were sent to him a good twenty, twenty-five minutes ago, and part of him was hoping the man would pick up soon. Shizuo hadn't had a real drink ever since the _brat_ , who had yet to mature properly, got him fired from his bartender job. He's avoided bars for a while, hoping to stop any unwarranted feelings of nostalgia. _I actually fucking liked that job, dammit._

After a few consecutive rings, he heard the subtle opening of the line.

"Kadota? Yeah. You still up for that drink?"


	2. Act I Scene II

_"_ _In matters of grave importance, style, not sincerity, is the vital thing."_  
― Oscar Wilde, _The Importance of Being Earnest_

* * *

"So there's this new club, yeah," Kadota spoke, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black insulated down coat. Shizuo was impressed that the man had traded in the teal fleece jacket for another coat. It was cold though, and even Shizuo had thrown on something other than his usual bartender attire. It wasn't much fancier, he had to admit. Nothing about an untucked button down, ratty, over worn jeans and a navy quilted jacket left him feeling over-dressed. It was mildly amusing though, seeing as he never really wore the pants that often; definitely not often enough to make their already light-washed color, lighter. He remembered buying them this way. Fashion had peculiar tastes, it was as though people _wanted_ to look cheaper.

"Yeah?" Shizuo replied, watching his breath, tinted and smooth, twine itself into the frosty air, "what's the place called?" It was almost like smoking, without the smoking part. Shizuo wondered whether he could blow smoke rings in this weather. Least to say, he was hardly paying attention to the man in the icecap who walking beside him.

Kadota shrugged lightly, looking to the side at the small, neon-lit shops, "something like Instant, I think," Shizuo rolled his eyes. They had already been walking for quite a bit now, and the alcohol craving he'd learned so hard to drown out was coming back at the promise of liquor.

"Can you get us there, at least? I mean, we're already in Shinjuku for Christ's sake. I'm sick of walking, Kadota," Shizuo huffed, and even to himself, he sounded childish. He crossed his arms over his chest, scrunching his flushed nose at the cold. He was immune to many things, excluding cold. Shizuo really hated winter - even if it promised warm chamomile tea and hot chocolate fondants, it wasn't enough of a bribe to make him actually _like_ the dead season.

Kadota smirked lightly, a small chuckle escaping him as he glanced at the irked blond from the corner of his eye. "Out of breath already? See, this is what smoking does to you. What happened to the Shizuo Heiwajima that did track―"

Shizuo snorted loudly, cracking a smile, "you know very well that I never did track."

"One time thing, ay?" Kadota laughed, alluding to something that the other picked up on quickly.

"Chasing that bastard was never a one time thing, but hey, keeps me in shape. The field was simply there at the time." The blond joked, looking back at the man who grinned at his comment. It felt as though they were back to being in high-school, even though Shizuo would argue those were the worst years of his life. Despite that, Kadota was the only one who mildly understood Shizuo, without wanting to cut him up one way or another - in cruel scientific interest, or sadistic pleasure.

"Oh god," Kadota snorted, "you should have seen people's faces. It looked like they were inches from crapping themselves when Izaya pulled a knife on you. One guy tripped over a hurdle and broke his nose, I think."

"You're joking," Shizuo grinned, looking incredulous, "did Shinra help the kid at least? I mean, it must have hurt. And our nurse sucked - she did nothing but give me ice and a time out, I swear."

"Define _'helped'_ " Kadota said between air quotations, "Shinra kept laughing."

"That fruitcake can't be saved."

Kadota shrugged, nodding along with the blond as they fell into an easy flow of laughter. "Shinra is a strange one, I'll give you that. But give the nurse-lady a break, though. You were at the clinic daily, not to mention you caused half the injuries she had to deal with." Shizuo rolled his eyes, digging in his pocket for his cigarette case and lighter.

"I don't see your point," he said, popping the butt of the cig into his mouth, flicking the lighter open in a practiced manner before stroking the wheel that set it ablaze. He did it all in one fluid motion before clicking it closed once more, running a thumb over the Russian engravings on the metal face. His other hand smoothed the case back into his pocket and proceeded to take the cancer-stick out of his mouth when he'd taken a drag. The lighter was a gift, one from Vorona; he wasn't sure exactly what it said, but given the buildings scratched onto the surface, he assumed it was something tourist-friendly.

Kadota nodded his head at Shizuo's hand, "your girlfriend give you that?"

"Nah, man," Shizuo spoke, tucking it back into his pocket, "a friend gave me that. I don't have a girlfriend."

"Glad to see you and Izaya are exchanging gifts, yeah?" Kadota scoffed, a little laugh escaping him as he dodged Shizuo's shove.

"What the hell man! That flea is not my friend!" The blonde growled loudly, eyes narrowing sharply.

"I'm just joking," the other smiled, looking back at the blond from a few steps ahead, "calm down, will you? Besides, we're already here, loosen up."

Shizuo looked up from his interest in the ground, the pungent smell of _drunk_ wafting around him as the flaming neons glared hotly back at him, breath catching in his throat.

 _Finally._


	3. Act II Scene I

_"But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve  
For daws to peck at: I am not what I am."_

― Iago ( I.i. _Othello_ )

* * *

The club stunk of sweat, and bodies and liquor and everything Shizuo had missed out on for the past three years. The music swelled with every step he took further from the entrance, his jacket left back there along with every care in the world, Kadota already having started to bob his head to the music. Shizuo grinned, a pleasant feeling washing over him, long before having a drink in his system. Maybe it was the restlessness of the place that created the bubble of euphoria that hung around him - maybe it was the manicured nail that ran down his arm, or the taunting smile he'd received.

Maybe, just _maybe_ , it was that fact no one here knew of the Monster of Ikebukuro. If they did, he would not have been so relaxed, they would not have approached him, let alone hung off him, with their bodies and their eyes. He never considered himself much of anything; he was not as successful as Shinra, pleasant and good natured like Kadota, or, even though he admits it begrudgingly, he was definitely not as smart as Izaya. Though, he had his face, he supposed, as narcissistic as it may have been.

He watched the bartender, as he sat there, twirling his whisky glass in a slow pirouette of ice and liquid. She was fast, her nimble fingers threading around bottle necks, a pianist clinking sweet Coconut Malibu/s and tangy bitter tequila shots - a true veteran of the night. He envied her, envied the way she grinned arrogantly with every served array of vodka shots that were dyed blue with lighting. He envied the way she too, rose a glass with the group of people who sat in front of her, expertly downing the drink in one swing. She looked sated with her world, one of kaleidoscopic colors, and looking through the bottom of a shot glass.

Nothing could ruin his mood, though, even missing the only job he'd actually enjoyed. Tonight was about forgetting, and enjoying himself. Something he hadn't done in quite a while. In a single swing, he took the torrent of liquor down his throat, the mezzo scotch burning lightly as it went. It was rich, and delicious; there was a hint of vanilla swirling in with the intense taste.

"A- _nother_!" He choked out, slamming the glass joyfully down onto the lit bar. He could hear those around him yell, wolf-whistles seeming to flow eagerly around the bar. He didn't get what the fuss was about though, it wasn't as if downing a glass was that much of an achievement. He could faintly feel Kadota pat him on the back, yelling something over the effervescent sound of music.

" 'nother pale whisky on the rocks!" The bartender shouts, mood seeming to lift impossibly higher, even though Shizuo had been convinced she couldn't be happier than she was before. "Here you go, doll," she purred happily, sliding the glass across the countertop and expertly into Shizuo's palm.

"That's your ninth whisky, Shizu- _o_ ," Kadota hummed, feeling buzzed himself as he sat down on a vacant stool by the blond. Said blond had taken to looking at the bartender through the sepia, almost orange tint of the glass. "You'll be going home sick tonight,"

Shizuo grunted, soft yet satisfied. He had learned to hold his liquor well a long time ago, and hadn't needed to be babysat at a bar ever since he was sixteen and stupid. "It's my eleventh, actually," he corrected.

"What? When did that happen?"

"When you were puking up a lung not too long ago."

Kadota frowned lightly, "Oh."

Shizuo couldn't help but laugh at the expression. He was feeling a bit tipsy, if the abundance of flirting was much to go by. The woman he'd just smiled at had winked back. He was having fun, for the first time in― he didn't care to remember how long. Shizuo turned his attention back to the brunet who raised a drunken eyebrow. The blond took a heavy gulp before setting the glass down.

"You're the one who's going to get sick off your―" Shizuo's breath caught in his throat, and for a fraction of a second, he thought his mind was beginning to succumb to the concept of ' _being drunk_ '. Through the corner of a honey-glazed eye, all he saw was _leg;_ long and elegant, a hue that resembled that of tinted ivory. They were a pair of crossed marble pillars that composed of shapely calves and faded into a perfect, and almost drawn, pair of ankles. An elegant foot slid into the confines of mile high stilettos of red chamois. Shizuo felt like he was going insane.

She was more angular, he believed, than most females; her hips more narrow, lacking the usually prominent love-handles. He watched her, seated across at the twin bar that was parallel to his own. Her body was twisted, crossed legs resting against the side of the bar, an angular and narrow back facing Shizuo as she placed her order with the male bartender. Her black, a-line bob barely hid much of the back of her neck, giving the blond an pleasant view of the curve of her back, pale skin glittering against the abysmal black of the backless dress. He heard her laugh at the hand on her bare thigh, and for the most part, Shizuo hadn't noticed the man sitting by her. He watched her in new light, her hair a flowing halo as she turned abruptly to face the man, an evasive smile on her face.

Shizuo was not drunk enough not to know that profile.

Not drunk enough to forget the slight curve of that elegant nose, or the carmine of those cruel eyes. No, Shizuo was not drunk enough not to know _Izaya Orihara_ when he saw him.

"No fucking way," he mumbled, his brain just registering the fact that the flea was meters from him, in a _dress_ , no less. "Hey, Kadota, are you seeing this?" Shizuo's eyes were marginally wide as he leant back against the bar, resting on his forearms as he directed his attention to the _woman_ that sat on the other side of the club. He couldn't believe it, he knew Izaya was into some strange shit, but _crossdressing and seducing men thrice his age_ hadn't really been on Shizuo's list.

"What're we looking at," Kadota said with a slight hum, turning to look in the direction Shizuo faced.

"Izaya."

"What the hell, where?" Shizuo watched the man scan the entire length of the bar area, both their own that lay behind them, and the one across the club. The blond watched him do it once more before Kadota turned to Shizuo with a lip curled in disbelief. "Are you drunk? Orihara isn't here."

Shizuo scoffed lightly, tipping his head back, " 'e is, you dumbass, look forward― right _there._ The woman in the dress? Yeah, that's no woman. Women don't have dicks between their legs."

"What the hell, Shizuo!" Kadota hissed under breath, "that's not okay man, what if she heard you? She's the farthest thing from male." Kadota looked flustered, and even though Shizuo was the one without a girlfriend, he had to wonder if Kadota was anymore outgoing in that department than he was.

"Let him hear. I'm telling you, Kadota. That's _Izaya_. I'll always know a flea when I see one―" the woman tucked her hair behind her ear, laughing loudly at something Shizuo was one hundred percent sure did not deserve that much laughter. "― _look_ , the piece of shit even has an ear piercing!"

"First of all," Kadota raised a single finger, seeming to have sobered up significantly since the start of this conversation, "a shit ton of women have ear piercings. Izaya does not."

"He had one in high-school."

"I'm pretty sure that's closed up by now, and you were the one who gave that to him at the beginning of class when he was napping!" Kadota snapped, almost incredulous at Shizuo's seemingly retarded logic. The blond smirked triumphantly.

"Well, yeah. The bastard had tried to give me a belly button piercing while I slept on the roof. With his knife. I have all the right in this world to give him one with the extra syringe I got off Shinra. At least I was being mildly hygienic," Shizuo crossed his arms, "not to mention he actually liked it, the masochistic little shit. Wore a stud for the longest time, too."

Kadota groaned in exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose, "then how do you explain that man calling him ' _Kanra_ ', hm? I'm pretty sure whoever he's dating would know he's got something― _extra_ ," he added awkwardly.

Shizuo's eyes brightened substantially, "you said he called him Kanra? When'd you hear that?"

"When you were drinking the entirety of the bar down not too long ago."

"In other words when you were on your way to the bathroom, getting ready to puke up a lung, yeah?"

"I hate you," Kadota groaned, his cocky comment misfiring as Shizuo laughed, patting him on the back with a smile.

"Kanra, _Kanra_ ," Shizuo grinned idly to himself, turning back to face the porcelain doll seated not too far away. "I'll bet you we can have some _real_ fun together."


	4. Act II Scene II

" _I don't want realism. I want magic! Yes, yes, magic. I try to give that to people. I do misrepresent things. I don't tell truths. I tell what ought to be truth._ "

― Tennessee Williams, _A Streetcar Named Desire  
_

* * *

Izaya was one more _misplaced_ touch away from gutting the man and eating his intestines raw, blood and all. It was disgusting, the feel of unwanted fingers brushing the hem of his dress in a manner that was both nauseating and lacked refined subtlety. He'd been in this position before, dressing up all pretty, heels and dresses, with female perfume drifting about him. Though, never in his life would he have guessed that the _only_ way he, the greatest informant in all of Tokyo, would be able to draw a piece of information out of this pathetic misogynist was to emasculate himself to such a degree. When he dressed up, he had done it for his own personal amusement, simply to see the flustered flush sink onto hormonal teenage boys in his presence, not―

Izaya subtly knocked the man's hand off his thigh.

" _Naughty_ Mr. Christopher-san!" He cooed, and although the foreigner's fingers were no longer laced around his leg, the man's perverse smile grew, "we're here on _business_ , remember?"

"Business is no fun without some form of, how shall I phase this, _convincing_ , no?" The man leaned forward, resting one hand right next to Izaya's drink, the other on the back of the raven's stool. The man was too close for comfort, the stink of alcohol was starting to make Izaya dizzy in the worst of ways. He hadn't even gotten a tidbit of information, and he'd been here for a while.

"Kanra-chan is not for sale Mr. Christopher-san, you have to impress me first!" He pouted playfully, the blood draining from his face when he heard the man hum and saw him attempt to lean in even further. His intentions were clear, and Izaya wasted no time in bringing the pineapple Malibu to his lips, effectively blocking the advance.

"So," Izaya attempted to redirect the conversation to where he wanted it to go when the man had drawn himself away in disappointment. He knew that at some point, he would have to give into this man's advances if he planned on getting the information he needed. The man's knowledge of Izaya's single state was a plus, and the informant knew this well. He just couldn't help his skin from crawling whenever the man tried to touch him. "Tell me more about yourself, Mr. Christopher-san―"

"Just Chris is fine, sweetheart," _Oh Thor, save me now._

 _"Yes._ Chris-san," Izaya cleared his throat, mainly to clear the bile rising up. "Tell me more about you."

"What's there to know, just a rich western man― what's there not to like, darling?" The man took a long sip off the Bloody Mary that sat in front of him, openly looking Izaya over in the blue and magenta hues of the bar.

"Mm," Izaya swooned externally, "a confident man who speaks fluent Japanese. Truly, what is there not to like!"

"Been here damn near fifteen-years," the man chuckled lowly, "I know pretty ladies like you inside out, I know your type, I speak _your_ language." Izaya wanted to scrub every inch of his body with acid, burning the layer of skin this man laid eyes on. With a flirtatious roll of his hips, Izaya pushed forward against his better judgement.

"Oh? And what brought you here and made you stay, _Chris_ ," Izaya near sung the name wantonly, and if the heated gaze of the westerner was much to go by, Izaya figured he was on the right track.

"Money, sweetheart, money," he purred right back, "a shipment of the sweetest smelling, wads of cash you'll ever see." The man threw down the now empty drink, signaling for a refill.

"Oh!" Izaya faked a flabbergasted gasp, bringing a beautifully manicured finger to his mouth, "sounds dangerous!"

"What does?" The man asked, looking mildly confused. Izaya smirked internally, he'd have the man eating out of the palm of his hand in no time. He flipped his hair outward seductively, leaning in with a cupped hand to whisper near the man's face. The foreigner seemed all too happy with the raven's approach.

"Counterfeit money, no?" Izaya lied, playing the card of the misinterpreted statement. The man's flushed, drunken face broke out into a loud laugh, one that seemed too amused for Izaya's liking. Yes, he was playing the role of the 'bad' yet blissfully ignorant young-lady, but this was simply ridiculous. He was being laughed at.

"No, no, darling. I don't fake money. It's more, _complex_ , than that. No need to put a damper on the night." He smiled, wrapping an arm around Izaya's waist, the other hand resting on the raven's hip, attempting to reel him in closer.

"You don't trust me― but I'm a good girl, Mr. _Christopher_ -san," Izaya whined, allowing the man to proceed even though it was killing him inside. The strong smell of cologne, paired with the club's loud, undying music made Izaya sick. He wanted out, he wanted personal space, and nothing more than to throw off his wig and burn the shoes and leave. Though, as he watched the bartender wink at him and the foreigner― who had his nose buried under Izaya's ear― he knew there was no getting out of this.

"Kanra," he mumbled into the ravens neck, "I'm not talking about money, doll, I'm talking powder, yeah?"

 _Now we're getting somewhere_ , Izaya smirked, eyes wicked under the bangs of his wig. "Powder? You mean― oh _my_ , you're so bad Chris! Shipments too?"

"Boat―" the man inhaled Izaya's scent heavily, "―fuls, love."

Izaya giggled, "No! And how much is a boatful, Mr. Christo―" That's when Izaya felt the man forcefully shoved off him, paired the slight clattering of glass as the man was roughly shoved up against the bar. Then Izaya felt his heart stop.

He looked into the flaming eyes of Shizuo Heiwajima.

"What d'you think you're doing, cheating on me, Kanra, baby?"

* * *

 _review?_


	5. Act II Scene III

_"Everything that deceives may be said to enchant._ "

― Plato

* * *

Izaya was almost hyperventilating, super aware of the manner in which Shizuo pressed to his side, and the way everything seemed to slow its pace to make way for the raven's inevitable breakdown. He felt the soft pants of warm, whisky breath along the column of his neck, too close, _too close._ He couldn't comprehend what was happening, _why_ this was happening, he was confused and angry and part of him knew if he didn't act now, this would have all been for naught.

"What do you think you're doing!" Izaya hissed under-breath, looking spooked and outraged, pulling at Shizuo's clothes to push him away. It was no use; he felt the blond's arm snake around his waist, while the foreigner's eyes were lit with an emotion Izaya knew well: betrayal. _He thinks I'm with Heiwajima for real!_ Izaya was panicking in his mind, for once not knowing what to do to get the unpredictable beast off him. _He's going to ruin everything! I won't get what I want!_ Izaya always got what he wanted. _Always_.

"Hey babe, I really missed you," Shizuo sung, pressing a soft kiss to the raven's cheek, his lips warm, force strong, "and my," he took a slight step back to admire _his_ _beautiful black bird, "_ you're looking fucking _gorgeous_ tonight, yeah? So I forgive you for letting this ugly bastard touch you, okay?"

"Kanra―" the foreign man began, watching from a safe distance as Shizuo made a guttural sound in the back of his throat, trailing loud, wet, _claiming_ kisses down the expanse of Izaya's neck, as the smaller man tried to shove him off vainly. Izaya felt every stroke of Shizuo's lips, every slight brush of his tongue, and heard every _loud_ and _unacceptably vulgar_ smack he made. The raven could feel the livid tension build in his posture in a very unladylike manner, a vaguely aggressive snarl possessing his scenic features, nails digging into the strong man's arms. There wasn't much he could do without scaring off his prey as well; pulling out a knife then and there would not hurt the monster, and would serve to earn the foreigner's ultimate distrust.

"Don't worry at all, Chris! Heiwajima- _san_ is _just_ about to leave, _yes_?" The word was strained, and Izaya's carmine eyes were burning with unhidden rage, despite the amicable smile on his face. Izaya curled a stray arm around the man who pressed heavily to his side, unbalanced, and possibly a little drunk, before dragging long nails painfully across the expanse of the blond's back. Shizuo looked up, his expression apathetic, brown eyes seemingly bored.

"Why babe?" a slow grin made its way onto his features, " _Kanra-chan_ should introduce me to her―" Shizuo looked the man over with a cruel predatory grin, " _friends_ , no?" Izaya gave a loud, fake laugh that would have sounded joyous aside from the heightened pitch.

"Aha, ha, _ha_.." Izaya leaned in close to Shizuo, taking the chance to growl lowly in his ear, " _you better fucking_ scram _, Shizu-chan, I'm in the middle of something here,"_ Izaya breathed through his wide grin, as though coming down from his laughing high, _"and I don't fucking care what the hell it is you think you're doing._ "

"Oh, Kanra-chan, so _kinky_!" Shizuo winked at Izaya, to the raven's mortification. Izaya was going to die. He was going to die and gut Shizuo and kill Dotachin who thought it was subtle to spy from the restroom's door, and _Odin's_ _beard_ ― "save it for tonight, babe, not in front of people!"

"What the _fuck_?!" Izaya hadn't even attempted to keep his voice feminine. Catching his folly, he turned back to the man who looked angry and disgusted at the outcome. "I am so sorry, Christopher, Shizuo is simply troubled, and there is no telling what he would say or do or―"

Shizuo rolled his eyes, listening to Izaya drone on and on to a man who had already stopped listening. He smirked, watching the dark cherry red lips move in a hurried dance to come up with a half-assed excuse. Izaya was pretty like this, flushed in anger and embarrassment and ill-hidden resentment, he found himself admitting. He had always been the victim of such games, thinking them ones that needed intellect and skill - but that wasn't the case. Shizuo didn't need Izaya's pretty little mind to drive the raven up the wall, effectively destroying his well-crafted cool. The mahogany-eyed man's fuse was much shorter than what Shizuo had previously anticipated, and he would be damned if he didn't admit how painfully satisfying it was to light that cold, damp candle wick with such a seething fire. Izaya truly was beautiful in his rage, eyes gleaming in faux tears that trailed the length of thick onyx eyelashes, long porcelain neck heavy with a single emerald necklace― pretty. That was, as long as he kept that mouth of his sewed shut.

He wasn't sure whether this was what he'd intended to do all along or whether the last drink he'd taken before coming over was a mistake. Shizuo breathed, leaning in to place a single finger on the corner of Izaya's lips, silencing him, and smudging his burgundy lipstick. _Ravishing_ , Shizuo's drunken mind supplied, fully aware that the aggressive smolder in the raven's eyes made him all the more tempting. Shizuo grinned harshly, leaning down, and to Izaya's utter disbelief, planted a slow, open mouthed kiss on him.

Izaya tasted like sin and pineapple and dry lipstick, but for the most part Shizuo enjoyed it. He enjoyed the fact that even though Izaya remained unmoving, all the fight had seemingly rushed out of him, leaving behind a shell of the resistance that used to lay there. Shizuo smiled into the kiss, introducing his tongue in slow strokes, and with every stroke came the delicate sound of a peck on the lips.

His head changed angles with every press, parting with every press of their parted lips. He felt something move, slow and deliberate, running up the leaning curve of his back and curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. It was subtle at first, but he _felt_ it, felt the unsteady response Izaya had given, the soft, slow opening of his lips and the curl of one of those long legs around one of Shizuo's own. He felt those manicured fingers that dug deep into his scalp, and the hesitant breaths that broke warmly across his tinted cheeks. He felt every curve and every hiss and every flutter of long lashes. He _felt_ Izaya.

The air around them drew in heavier with every ignored catcall, the heels of those elegant stilettos pressing painfully against the back of Shizuo's calves. Izaya's once tense posture failed, as he leaned back against the edge of the bar, taking Shizuo - who pressed forward over Izaya's sitting form - with him.

Izaya didn't know what he was doing, or why in the name of Valhalla he chose to humor a drunken beast's savage desires. The worst of it all came in the form that he didn't _particularly_ dislike it, didn't hate the feel of Shizuo's body pressing his own, nor the feeling of that soft cotton shirt threaded between the fingers of his fisted palm.

With a sting of pain, Izaya felt Shizuo's teeth nip at him. Small bites littering the outside of his lips and the tip of his tongue, which had introduced itself to the other's liquor flavored mouth. The blond tasted bitter in the best of ways, he tasted like raw, chewed coffee beans― Shizuo tasted like violence.

Izaya's breath caught in his throat, his mouth preoccupied and his nose too blocked by the strong scent of aftershave to heed breath. _Yes_ , he thought internally, sliding both hands to the collar of the blond's shirt, drawing him impossibly closer. The _heat_ , Shizuo's nose exhaling against his skin, pressing into his cheek― _everything_ the other did, Izaya _felt_ , he felt the strong hands that clutched his waist, felt them give a deliberate press, a press that left Izaya with a silent gasp and an open mouth and a plethora of bruises.

It felt _good_ , that pain that braided its way up his sides in a steady burn, the way Shizuo was not kind in his hold, the way the blond violently lifted him off the stool and onto the bar. It was all enthralling, and tempting and agonizing in its deliberate slowness. _This_ was the type of touch he wanted, torment and pain― and yes, _yes, yes_ , that hand sliding up his thigh and―

thigh

thigh.

Thigh.

His _thigh_. Izaya's eyes snapped open, shoving Shizuo away, one of his manicured hands laced through his bangs, gripping harshly as a look of utter defeat and disbelief washed over him. Shizuo looked almost as ruffled as he did, lips swollen, eyes angry and lustful. Izaya breath slowed; he looked down at the half drunken Bloody Mary that sat by the empty seat, knowing he'd fucked up big time.

 _Shit_.

* * *

you're all awesome (:

 _review?_


	6. Curtain

_aha..ahaha.. so i know some of you were expecting sumt and whatnot, but unconfident author is unconfident in her ability to write realistic lemons (might try if asked for it though) so enjoy the Raijin quartet and some shizaya instead in this mock short epilogue thing o.-''_

/shot

 **brief note: i typed the chat up the way i thought each character would type, if they were conversing in english. based on personality, i guess.**

* * *

"Humanity i love you because you  
are perpetually putting the secret of  
life in your pants and forgetting  
its there and sitting down  
on it  
― e.e. cummings, _Humanity i love you_

" _Yes, Shiki-san― of course, yes. I know. I get it okay? Promise. Argh! Are you serious? After all I've freaking ― will you let it go already! Whatever― wait, wha―_ don't you dare―" Izaya squawked in offense, his back straightening as he glared down at his beeping cellphone. "Can you believe him? He hung up on me. The bastard hung up. On _me_. And I'm in a _dress_ ― who on earth treats a woman that way, hm? No one. That's who. Because it's rude." He huffed, burying his cold nose into the nape of Shizuo's neck. "I'll bet he doesn't treat his wife like that, ne?"

Shizuo didn't react to the broker's complaining, nor did he care much. He shifted, adjusting Izaya, who'd taken the his jacket despite the ridiculous size difference and obliged Shizuo to give him a ride home on his back. After he had, quite effectively, sabotaged Izaya's more or less incognito mission, the raven had huffed and whined and hit him in order to get what he wanted. It wasn't like it was particularly painful, but it was the type of annoying nagging that left Shizuo wanting to knock Izaya out for the rest of forever. Not to mention, Izaya had been livid.

Izaya sighed, pocketing his phone and pressing deeper into Shizuo's warm back, his long, bare-footed legs locking tightly around the man, as the blond gripped his thighs in fear, Izaya supposed, of dropping him. Not that with all that strength he would, but he decided to forgive the mildly drunken man. It was strange; if someone had come to him that very morning and told him he'd be carried home by both Shizuo and his peach-esque shampoo musk, he probably would have had Shinra dissect them for possible palpable levels of stupidity. Though right then, with his arms crossed over Shizuo's chest, the expensive wig fisted in his right hand― it hadn't seemed so bad.

He huffed, watching his natural bangs blow in the brisk dawn air. "You're so slow, Shizu-chan."

"You do nothing but complain." Kadota added, the grumpiest and most drunk of all of them, having taken one of the two, now very much broken, stilettos to the face. Izaya had gone into rage back at the bar, slipping off one of his shoes and expertly throwing it Shizuo's direction, with the full intention of hurting the man had he not dodged. Kadota, who was unaware that Izaya knew where he stood, was painfully unprepared for the demonic gaze and high-heel that were directed at him violently straight after. He continued nursing his most likely broken nose, eyes wandering every now and then to the heel-broken platforms that Shizuo carried for the man on his back.

"Not my fault you both are utter and absolute assholes to me most of the time, unbelievable. I was always the bullied one of all of you. Poor Shinra was the only one who ever stood up for me!" Kadota snorted, and ignored Izaya's indignant squeak at the _'_ _yeah, right'_ he'd muttered.

"Go to sleep, Izaya." Shizuo spoke softly, and Izaya balked at the tone. It was so unlike him, so calm and warm and - Izaya didn't even understand it enough to finish the thought. Kadota drew in a breath and stayed silent for the most of it. Izaya rested his head on Shizuo's shoulder, deciding he would give them hell for this tomorrow. He'd sleep it off for now.

* * *

"I really don't believe you guys! Going out and having fun without me, you're really very horrible." Shinra frowned, looking much like a child who was asked to stay at home and study on the weekend. He handed Izaya another ice-cube, wrapped tightly in a blue cloth, to nurse the bruises on his feet and waist, watching the man grin hotly back at him in unhidden distaste. The glare itself didn't do much to deter Shinra's pouty, bubbly mood. Nothing about Izaya seemed even mildly threatening, not with the slightly worn looking eyeliner or the paling lipstick.

Shinra finished bandaging Kadota's nose with a cheerful hum, before getting up, "you know, Shizuo, I would've never even known you guys were here had Tom-san not called me and told me you hadn't made it to work today. He wanted me to check up on you. You could have _died_!"

"Your voice," Shizuo hissed in a dry rasp, his head tipped back on the sofa. He had an arm thrown over the back of the couch, where Izaya curled into him, the other propped heavily and tauntingly over his glaring eyes, "is too fucking _loud_."

"Mm," Izaya hummed in agreement, pressing his closed eyes into the crook Shizuo's neck to avoid the blazing sun, which seemed too radiant for the winter. Shinra, so sweet in his nature, had barged into Shizuo's unlocked apartment and peeled open every single curtain Kadota had spent the entire early morning fumbling to close. It hadn't helped that all three of them were nursing horrible hangovers.

Izaya's phone broke Shinra's nervous, neck scratching giggles. The informant huffed, not wanting to move from the warmth that the blond provided. Until his phone begun having something akin to a seizure, blaring and ringing and lighting up like downtown Tokyo in the dead of night.

"Fucking hell, flea, shut that thing off before I _break_ it!" Shizuo said, snapping and giving Izaya a slight push. Izaya scowled back at him, mind reeling in pain.

"Easy there, _baby_ ," he cooed sarcastically with a harsh smile, "no one's breaking anything of mine, yeah?"

Throwing the ice-cube to the side moodily, Izaya flipped open the phone, listening to Shizuo groan in the background. Regardless of the fact, couldn't say he wasn't grateful for that hand that lay at the small of his back, pressing soft circles. Smirking contently, he felt as though he'd finally gotten a beast put on a rather short leash; the feeling was greater than anything Izaya thought he'd ever enjoy. He'd found the unpredictability pill Shizuo seemed to be taking, and with his skill, he would crush it. With a pleasant intake of breath, Izaya opened his messages, feeling the bile rise up in his throat, half a second in tow.

 _Setton_ : Congrats, Kanra! I'm sure Heiwajima will treat you _real_ nice. hmm.

 _Saika_ : Oh, I didn't know. Congratulations, I suppose.

 _Saika_ : Hope I'm not too late.

 _Taro Tanaka_ : oh wow, didn't see that one coming. um, im happy for you?

 _Taro Tanaka_ : this is so weird oh god

 _Setton_ : I heard from a reliable doctor that the evening's events were.. _painful_ , so to say.

 _Byakura_ : r u fucking joking? this piece of shit got laid? + shizuo? wat the hell

 _Byakura_ : std time poor shizuo

 _Saika_ : It would be nice to just congratulate them..

 _Byakura_ : no. this little shit needs to

 _Byakura_ : ya know

 _Byakura_ : die and watnot

 _Setton_ : Have a good one, Kanra-chan! ;3

 _Taro Tanaka_ : and be safe.. :p

 _Byakura_ : ur encouraging this?

 _Setton is typing.._

 _Kanra has just logged off._

Izaya was going to _die_ of mortification, he couldn't take much more of that. He snapped his phone closed, laying back against Shizuo, groaning loudly as both the heels of his palms came up to smudge at the remaining eyeliner. This was ridiculous, and the last thing he'd felt like dealing with.

 _Masaomi is as stupid as it gets,_ Izaya thought, frowning. _Me, and the monster? Not in this lifeti_ \- Izaya looked up at Shizuo who had his head thrown back, arm over his throbbing forehead. He sighed; with a short, grumpy huff, he threw one of legs over Shizuo's, leaning into the blond's side. _Whatever_.

Shizuo opened an eye in curiosity, "what did it say?"

"You really, _really_ don't want to know."

* * *

 _fin._

review? :)


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